


Tools to Fix the Broken Universe

by irisbleufic



Series: Meant to Be Here [1]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath, Aftermath of Violence, Aftermath of a Case, Asexuality Spectrum, Awkward Conversations, Awkward First Times, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Banter, Belonging, Bisexuality, Camping, Canon Compliant, Car Sex, Demisexuality, Domestic, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Homecoming, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jewish Character, M/M, Multi, Naked Cuddling, Neurodiversity, New Relationship, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Post-Canon, Recovery, Shapeshifting, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:39:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15487032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: “No, but really,” Todd continued, nudging Dirk’s shoulder again, possibly a sign of subconscious reciprocal flirtation. “You’ve been jumpy like you were when we started the case. I know when something’s eating you.”“Not likely. If it were one as yet AWOL kitten-shark,” said Dirk, too glibly, “thenyou'd notice.”Without any warning, Todd grabbed Dirk’s tie, tugging until they were nearly nose to nose.“We’re meant to be here, and everything’s connected,” he said. “Just fucking tell me.”





	1. Transformations

**Weapon to Ploughshare**

The surprise wasn’t that all the lights but one flickered out when Ken and Mr. Priest left Bart alone so they could go have a conference about what huge jerks they were or whatever. That kind of shit was to be expected, a no-brainer.

It was that the security door didn’t shut, and that the chair across from Bart turned into a girl.

“Are you, like, the first way they’re gonna try to mess with my head?” Bart asked wearily.

The girl, who maybe wasn’t as young as she looked, raised a finger to her lips and winked.

“The detectives sent me,” she whispered, becoming a chair and then a girl again as if to prove a point. “I’m Mona. What do you want me to be?”

“Sorry,” Bart hissed, folding her arms across her chest, “but I don’t get it. You mean for fun?”

“No,” Mona said, shaking her head, and the shape of a gun flickered on the table. “To fight.”

Bart felt revulsion to the point of pain, but the part of her listening to the universe said: _run_.

“I really wanted things to settle,” she said sadly, reaching for Mona’s hand. “Be old-school.”

There was something undeniably comforting in the heft of a machete, in splitting Mr. Priest’s skull down the neat line of his stapled-shut face. He had returned alone to fetch her, which was almost too convenient.

Everything about Bart's escape was convenient, down to the one opponent that wouldn't die.

Untouched by bullets or blood, Bart hefted her unlikely, living burden and didn’t look back.

 

**Conduit to Collector**

Amanda hauled open the back door of the van, hyper-aware that Martin was stewing at the wheel. He hadn’t been pleased about their latest stop on the road-trip from Purgatory, and, given the perilous location, Amanda couldn't really blame him.

He was even less happy that she and Vogel were helping Mona and Bart wrangle a badly-wounded, unconscious Ken Adams into the van.

“He ain’t lookin’ so great,” said Bart, by way of apology, and reluctantly hopped in behind Mona.

“You did the best you could,” Amanda replied, her hands on the doors. “He’s gonna need help.”

“Then take us someplace he can get it,” Bart pleaded, her face half in shadow, “and me, too.”

“We are so, so screwed,” Vogel lamented, climbing inside so Amanda could close the doors.

Making her way to the front passenger door, Amanda yanked it open and resumed her seat.

“There’s trouble when you ride shotgun,” Martin said, starting the ignition. “So, destination?”

“Someplace Ken can get treatment and recover from his injuries,” Amanda sighed. “Any ideas?”

“The only place I know’s two hours behind us, Drummer,” Martin warned. “Back in Montana.”

“Then we have to take them,” Amanda replied, clutching the wand until it glowed fierce as hope.

 

**Enforcer to Guardian**

There was comfort in sitting outside the hospital at dusk. No blinding sun to remind Tina of what she’d lost. Less light by which Hobbs could fuss over her crestfallen face. He was totally the mom friend.

They were well enough to take walks now instead of just sitting on their asses playing cards.

“I’ve figured it out,” Hobbs said, one steadying arm around Tina’s waist as they ambled down the path. “You don’t need to go hiding it from me, you realize. I know how much you miss her.”

Well, shit. So much for hoping it was too dark for him to see her heart on her fucking sleeve.

“Shut up, Sherlock,” Tina griped, tugging him in the opposite direction on a hunch. “C’mon.”

The main entrance was on a tree-lined lane, as sedate as anything else in Bergsberg’s corner of the world. Few ambulances arrived past nightfall, so hopefully their orderly wouldn’t get too bent out of shape if she and Hobbs ventured that far.

Tina needed to see a road, _any_ road, to remind her Farah waited somewhere at its end.

“What,” said Hobbs, squinting at the speeding puff of dust that approached, “in the heck is that?”

Squinting, too, Tina could make out the familiar scrawl of spray-paint on the dark van’s side.

“Maybe a message,” she said, squeezing Hobbs’s hand, “or a sign. Either one’s enough for me.”

 

**Avenger to Comforter**

As their plane made its final descent toward the warm, green world below, Farah clung tightly to her brother’s hand and tried not to laugh. She’d forgotten how much Eddie hated this part. He'd been like that ever since they were kids, even.

“The quicker it’s over with, the better,” Eddie muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as they abruptly dropped. “Isn’t this trip kind of frivolous? Taking a whole goddamn month out of the country? Knowing those boys, they’ll be lost without you.”

“God, no. They’ll be fine. Think about what’s waiting down there,” Farah said, heart racing as she imagined what wonders awaited them on the ground. “A place you’ve never seen. A place I’ve never seen, either. It weighs on me all the time.”

“A person, too,” replied Eddie, queasily opening an eye to peer at her. “I’m no good at people.”

“Then you’ll learn fast,” Farah insisted as the pilot angled them smoothly for landing, “because you’ll have the best people-person I’ve ever met to teach you. She taught me everything I know when it comes to pretending to be social. Even when she wasn't technically a person.”

They stumbled exhausted through customs and baggage claim, breathing easy in the knowledge nobody had flagged them at the border. Farah shouldered her rucksack, urging Eddie forward. As drained as she felt, they couldn't get out fast enough.

The meet-and-greet area of Goldson International was packed, but Farah forged on, arms open.

“Farah! Farah, you made it!” Lydia cried, face tear-streaked for joy as she rushed into them.

 

**Harbinger to Companion**

As dusk fell, sunset cast the agency’s half-unpacked waiting area in sullen flame. The dubiously-gifted traffic cone from the Beast, in its place of honor next to the entrance, glowed with both warning and welcome.

From his spot on the sofa, Dirk couldn’t help but admire what an eye-sore it was. A reminder.

Todd returned from the kitchenette, doubtless having shoved their dishes aside until morning.

“Can’t wait till your lazy ass is off those,” he said, flopping next to Dirk. “One more week.”

Dirk elbowed the crutches where they were propped against the arm of the sofa, feigning an accident. As they clattered to the floor, he graced Todd with a look of mock-innocence that was maybe, just _maybe_ , also flirtatious.

“Crutches?” he asked. “What crutches? I don’t see any crutches here. Are you hallucinating?”

“That’s mean,” Todd protested, stretching until their shoulders bumped, “and you know it.”

Dirk leaned into him, grinning ruefully. “The longer I’m on them, the longer moving in takes.”

“Admit it,” Todd said, poking Dirk in the chest. “I think you _like_ being on vacation.”

“Excuse you, but the parlance is _on holiday_ ,” Dirk protested, “and no, I surely do not.”

“Vacation, holiday, call it what you want,” Todd went on, needling him. “It’s your new thing.”

“Holistic relaxation,” Dirk retorted, squashing the urge to tickle Todd in revenge. “So sue me.”

“You wouldn’t know relaxation if it bit you,” Todd said, untying his shoes and kicking them off.

 _Maybe if you bit me_ , Dirk thought, eager to reclaim Todd’s attention, _I’d know_.

“You okay?” Todd asked, bringing his bare feet onto the sofa. “Why so tense? I was kidding.”

Dirk let his pinkie brush innocuously along the side of Todd’s foot, satisfied when he yelped.

“No harm, no foul,” he said, desperately smitten with how the falling sun caught Todd’s eyes.

“No, but really,” Todd continued, nudging Dirk’s shoulder again, possibly a sign of subconscious reciprocal flirtation. “You’ve been jumpy like you were when we started the case. I know when something’s eating you.”

“Not likely. If it were one as yet AWOL kitten-shark,” said Dirk, too glibly, “ _then_ you'd notice.”

Without any warning, Todd grabbed Dirk’s tie, tugging until they were nearly nose to nose.

“We’re meant to be here, and everything’s connected,” he said. “Just fucking tell me.”

 _Meant to be here_ , Dirk thought, closing his eyes to ease the sting of confession.

“If I had been there in Nevada or wherever, behind the restaurant—me and not Farah, I mean, since it makes way more sense that you would’ve followed me outside, or I would’ve followed you, _or_ —do you think you would have—” he paused for breath, poised on the single most terrifying emotional precipice he’d ever encountered “—made out with _me_?”

Instead of any number of looks belonging to Todd that Dirk had committed to memory and held in his heart through the longest two months of his life—instead of disgust, dismay, or disillusionment—Todd smiled the kind of smile he reserved for happy endings.

“Was it unfair to Farah,” he said, eyes all mischief and heartbreak, “that I _wished_ it was you?”

“I really dropped the ball on that one,” Dirk replied hastily. “You weren’t where you were supposed to—”

“No, I _was_ ,” said Todd, stubbornly, leaning closer, “because I was on my way to find you.”

Whatever a kiss was meant to be like, Dirk was grateful to have no point of reference. He had, by inference alone, no choice but to conclude that every kiss should be like this one, finally understanding why people wanted to do it with _particular_ other people.

Leaning into the soft, apologetic press of Todd’s mouth, letting his lips part, Dirk sighed.

“Maybe it was premature of me to make that blanket statement about sex,” he stammered as they drew apart, his fingers fretting at the buttons of Todd’s shirt. “That most of it’s boring, I mean. If kissing you is anything _but_ , which it quite obviously _is_ , then I can’t imagine…”

Todd was just nodding at him, eyes crinkling at the corners now, helping Dirk with his buttons.

“Well, see,” he said, dipping to nuzzle the hollow of Dirk’s throat, “you won’t have to imagine.”

Undressing each other was easier than it should have been, maybe because they’d done it at least twice, maybe even three times, under deadly and distressing circumstances. Maybe seeing Todd for what he was without a regrettable stars-and-stripes vest or boxers in the way was a relief—and maybe it was a relief in kind not to hide behind that pink-feathered vintage coat.

“Look at that,” whispered Dirk, extending one trembling hand to touch Todd’s cheek. “C’mere.”

Todd, no paragon of steadiness himself, climbed into Dirk’s lap. They tipped sideways on the sofa, swearing and clinging to each other. Had Dirk not stubbornly held on, they would’ve ended up on the floor.

“You realize most people’d find this, like…super, _super_ dull,” Todd said breathlessly.

At close range, Todd’s bright, blurred eyes and sheepish grin were all the reassurance Dirk needed. He kissed Todd again, entirely and unashamedly in love, shifting until the aimless press of their bodies went _click_. 

“I don’t give a bloody toss,” Dirk gasped, relieved when Todd’s sharp moan broke on a laugh.

And while the sex itself wasn’t some kind of revelation, the fact that he was having it with Todd—well, _was_. Which, improbably, was good enough.

Later, waking to find the room awash in darkness, Dirk couldn’t remember covering them with a blanket. Half-smothered beneath Todd’s reassuring weight against his chest, he blinked at the lithe figure that stood over them in moonlit silhouette.

“Mona,” he said, abashed, plucking the hem of the blanket at Todd’s nape. “I, _er_ —thanks.”

“They are safe now,” Mona responded, voice silvery in the eerie silence, “and you are home.”

Dirk closed his eyes as she shifted shape, listening as Mona’s favorite form softly hit the carpet.

“S’really late,” Todd mumbled, scarcely awake, cuddling Dirk like he never intended to stop.

“ _Shhh_ , no it’s not,” Dirk soothed, holding him tight. “For once, the timing’s just right.”


	2. Reparations

According to the digital clock sitting on some nearby boxes, it was two in the morning when Todd woke up needing to piss like nobody’s business. He was still naked, Dirk was still naked, and there was nowhere he’d rather be. Except the bathroom, but that was temporary.

The blanket was a tad confusing, but he draped it back over Dirk anyway. The next step he took landed on something that went _squish_ beneath his heel and nearly tripped him on his ass.

“Dammit, Mona,” he whispered, shakily skirting the sofa. That explained the blanket, anyway.

Once Todd was done using the toilet, he paused to wash his hands. It was weird seeing himself naked in a mirror outside the context of drying off after a shower. Unremarkable, pale. He returned to the sofa to find Dirk sitting upright, injured leg extended, blanket around his shoulders.

Even in the darkness, Dirk’s anxious, eager-eyed expression was easy to discern.

“C’mon,” Todd sighed, reaching with both hands, helping Dirk to his feet. “Let’s go to bed.”

Dirk opened the blanket, wrapping them both in it, trapping Todd comfortably against his chest.

“That poses a logistical problem,” Dirk began, mouth moving improbably fast given the soft, distracting kisses Todd was pressing to Dirk’s neck. “There’s the question of whether it should be my bed or yours, and while there’s negligible difference in either size or firmness between the two mattresses—or Farah’s, for that matter, seeing as we got a bulk deal—your pillows are lacking in substance, not to _mention_ —”

Todd took hold of Dirk’s face and kissed him on the mouth. “Okay, so that’s easy,” he said, plastering himself even more shamelessly against Dirk when Dirk decided to peck his cheek. “We can go to your bed, or we can go to my bed and bring one of your pillows.”

“I have no idea what I used to do before you were here to derail my—my, well, _these_.”

“You don’t need to get so worked up,” Todd soothed, resting his head against Dirk’s shoulder.

“I haven’t shared a bed before,” Dirk blurted, swaying slightly when he shifted too much weight to his healing right side. “This is one of the _worst_ sorts of uncharted territory, not being accustomed to how one’s partner sleeps when cohabitation becomes a—a _thing_.”

“We have the cohabitation part down, I’m not worried,” Todd said, brushing his stubble along Dirk’s collarbone, making Dirk shiver. “C’mon. I’m really tired, but you’re turning me on.”

“Oh,” Dirk murmured, catching Todd around the waist, pressing into him suggestively. “ _Am_ I?”

“Like that’s news to you,” Todd griped fondly, peeling away from him, keeping hold of Dirk’s wrist so he could lead him toward the hall. “Careful, Mona’s left herself lying around again.”

“Tell me about it,” Dirk replied, his eye-roll practically audible. “She has _got_ to do better when it comes to picking up after herself. Er, picking herself up? Whatever. Something.”

“You must be pretty tired if your aimless babbling makes no sense,” Todd said, helping Dirk up the four low stairs between the bathroom part of the hall and the bedroom part of the hall.

“It makes no sense because you’re turning me on, too,” Dirk pouted. “Sexy feedback loop.”

“Wow, I’ve never heard you say that,” Todd said, flipping the light-switch just inside Dirk’s bedroom door. He steered Dirk inside, parked him on the edge of the unmade bed, turned on the nightstand lamp, and then went back to turn out the overhead light. “Say it again?”

“What—you’re turning me on?” Dirk tried, comically perplexed as Todd climbed onto the bed beside him. “There’s a sound reason for that, Todd. I’ve had no logical opportunity to do so till now.”

“Yeah, right,” Todd teased, caressing Dirk’s bandaged thigh to make sure contact wasn’t causing him too much grief. “As if absence of logic ever prevented you from…” He lost his train of thought when Dirk latched onto his neck with intent to leave a hickey. “No, the…the other thing.”

“ _Mmm_ ,” Dirk hummed, licking the mark he’d left, as if considering. “Sexy,” he said.

“Fuck,” Todd sighed, throwing his weight back toward the pillows, pulling Dirk on top of him. “Every single thing that comes out of your mouth is just, I don’t know. Totally unfair.”

Dirk was already mildly short of breath, propped on his elbows over Todd. “Unfair how sexy?”

Todd yanked him down into a languid, filthy kiss, rubbing against Dirk’s hard-on with his thigh.

“In your case, adorkable might be more accurate,” he panted, biting back a whimper when Dirk pushed down against him and got the angle just right. “But…never mind, _fuck_.”

“I understand,” Dirk whispered hotly against Todd’s temple, trembling just like he had earlier, a sign he might already be close. “I find it…sexy when you say _that_ , too.”

“Maybe I should’ve told you to go fuck yourself instead of screw yourself,” Todd teased, but he couldn’t really maintain focus with Dirk lifting up so he could put a hand on them. “You might’ve had your way with me in the truck.”

Dirk touched him with gentle curiosity, each brush of his fingers exploratory—nothing that was going to get them off as fast as grinding.

“Would it be premature to confess,” he breathed, tugging at Todd in earnest, “that I love you?”

With that, Todd couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—except to summon the hazy impression of Dirk rambling fervently in his ear while worrying at something on a cord around Todd’s neck.

“No, because you already told me, and I _definitely_ told you,” Todd said, trying to get a few strokes in edgewise even as Dirk slapped his hand away. “Nice to hear it sober, though.”

“Well, I do,” said Dirk, petulant again, abandoning the hand-job to press them achingly close.

“Love you, too, _fuck_ ,” Todd gasped. “As if it wasn’t fucking obvious from the second—”

“Oh my God, this can’t,” Dirk whimpered, stiffening helplessly against him. “Yes, right. Fuck.”

Todd wasn’t far behind, but he could definitely take a moment to enjoy Dirk losing control too endearingly fast for a second time that night. He kissed Dirk’s parted lips, tempted. Dirk moaning incoherently into Todd’s mouth was even more attractive than Dirk’s articulate moaning earlier.

Shivering with the intensity of both memory and present moment, Todd came, soothed by Dirk’s constant warmth. 

“Oh, I couldn’t have done it,” Dirk whispered after a while, sounding relieved, clinging tighter.

“You couldn’t have done what?” Todd asked, raking his fingers through Dirk’s hair. “Huh?”

“With, you know,” Dirk mumbled into the pillow while Todd continued to pet him, “my admirer.”

Todd felt like an asshole for laughing, but he gave in anyway. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Why?” Dirk asked, lifting his head, face splotchy, pink, and adorable. “Are you jealous?”

“Nah,” Todd said, bumping his nose against Dirk’s. “You had a monster cuddle you in some fairytale ruins; I had our drunk bestie lay one on me behind a cheap diner. We’re even.”

“I sincerely hope that Farah wasn’t the one driving that night,” replied Dirk, fussily appalled.

“I wouldn’t have let her,” Todd insisted, suddenly serious, pressing their foreheads together.

Dirk, in the apparent absence of anything useful to say, kissed him soundly, as if to stake claim.

“Don’t worry,” Todd said, grinning up at him sleepily. “Our story can’t go any other way.”


	3. Actualizations

Shooing Lydia so that she could talk to her boys in earnest, Farah propped the borrowed iPad in her lap.

"Farah! Farah Farah _Farah_ ," Dirk bubbled, hopping into the frame. "You made it!"

"Oof," Todd said, nearly knocked sideways on the sofa. His arm ended up around Dirk's shoulders, and Farah noticed he didn't bother to move it. "Anyway, you were saying—Belize?"

"Why wouldn't I make it?" she asked Dirk, ignoring Todd's question. "Lydia has wireless."

"It's a modern city," Todd said, poking Dirk in the ribs. "Don't be a patronizing colonialist."

Farah fought the urge to burst out laughing while Dirk pulled a wounded face at Todd. She missed them so much that the banality of their energetic bickering was a welcome sight.

"Even though it's gorgeous here, Eddie's just about ready to leave," Farah said. "So am I."

"Well, we miss you," Todd replied, desperately earnest. "I think a case is trying to start, but I won't allow it till Dirk's off the crutches and you're home." He stood up. "Be right back."

"The perils of a woefully tiny bladder," Farah joked. "Lucky you weren't on the road with him."

"Now, Farah, just so it doesn't come as a shock," said Dirk, with that prissy, precise smugness that heralded news he believed would come as a surprise, "Todd and I are—"

"Fucking?" Farah ventured, grinning as his eyes went round. "Yeah, I figured. It's about time. Tina started a betting pool on your love-struck butts the day I left the hospital."

"As versatile as I find that word," Dirk replied, "I find it somewhat crude when utilized in an outside party's assessment of the situation. I was about to say that Todd and I are in a mutually-beneficial, consent-based, committed relationship." He blinked rapidly. "Wait—was the wager whether or not we _would_ , or how long it would take us to do it?"

"Well, that's a mouthful," Farah said, grinning wider at him, holding her arms wide in a mock-hug to convey she was in earnest. " _Serious_ congrats. The bet was on how long."

"Thank you," Dirk said, fanning himself with the small, dark hardcover that had apparently been on the sofa cushion. "Mona," he said, tapping the book, "says hello."

 _Oh_. Dirk hadn't been fanning himself because of Todd's hotness; he'd been waving for her.

"Any shake-ups in the broader living situation I should know about? You haven't kicked me out of the biggest bedroom, have you?" Farah asked. "Dibs means dibs."

"Not really?" said Dirk, with a perplexed shrug. "We've been switching between mine and his."

"Maybe settle into yours," Mona suggested. "Then we could turn Todd's into a spare office."

"Or keep it as a guest room," Dirk replied, pantomiming a wink. "I mean, I don't know if you noticed," he whispered loudly, his way of showing courtesy under the circumstances, "but Tina _really_ has the hots for you."

Farah laughed until the weird, joyous spark in her chest bubbled over. Dirk was adorable, and after all the painful bullshit and mixed signals from everyone else, Todd deserved him.

"Yeah, I, uh," she managed, wiping her eyes as Todd wandered back into the frame and resumed his seat next to Dirk, "kinda noticed. She was all over me constantly, spell or no spell."

"Screw you guys, having fun without me," Todd said, pecking Dirk's cheek between words until Dirk huffed. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," said Dirk, dismissively, and then got Todd back with something low, rapid, and affectionate mumbled right against Todd's ear. "But! Farah and Tina! Isn't that _sweet_?"

"On second thought, maybe I need to get out of here before I puke from the cute," Todd sighed.

"Nuh-uh, no you don't," Farah said, ticking a finger at him. "If anybody's gonna puke, it's me."

"Why?" Dirk asked, leaning happily into Todd's shoulder. "We're handsome and compelling."

"Because this means Tina and I each owe Hobbs, like, fifty bucks," Farah replied, resigned.


	4. Negotiations

The evening before Farah was set to fly home, Mona agreed to finish unpacking the office for them on two conditions. One, that they vacate the premises for twenty-four hours, and two, that they pay her.

Dirk had shrugged, agreed, and said incredulously to Todd, “I didn’t know she had a bank account.”

“We could go back out to those woods where we dug up the time machine,” Todd had suggested with a hint of mischief. “We have a truck this time instead of a Jeep.”

Dirk had just beamed and nodded, understanding instantly why Todd’s proposal was a _great_ idea. It was his first day off crutches, so he wasn’t about to waste it—not even faced with residual, minor discomfort.

As with many of Todd’s schemes, the notion turned out to be less than ideal in practice. Everything went fine up through shopping for camping supplies—the obtaining of cozy, shareable sleeping bags included.

However, upon arrival, they discovered that the woods were near-sodden with recent rain.

“Thank goodness for the truck-bed, right?” Todd sighed, hopping out of the driver’s seat of their strangely-labeled transport. “We might not be able to start a fire.” 

Dirk shimmied his way across the front seat to exit after him. Perched on the edge of the driver’s side, legs dangling, he caught Todd around the middle before he could wander too far.

“Maybe not a _literal_ one,” said Dirk, with what he hoped was a hint of naughtiness, appreciatively rubbing Todd’s chest. “I had rather fancied making s’mores, though.”

Todd shivered at the contact, his hands coming up to cover Dirk’s. He guided them, hissing with pleasure when Dirk’s fingertips found his nipples through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

“I love that you get this was only ever gonna be a booty call,” Todd sighed, sagging back against Dirk’s chest as Dirk continued to suss out Todd’s sensitivity through fabric.

“And a highly sentimental one, at that,” Dirk murmured in Todd’s ear, giving his earlobe an experimental lick, “because that’s the way you are.”

Todd shuddered, his grasp firm on Dirk’s wrists. “I’d blow you right here, right now,” he said, “but we should set up even if we can’t cook.”

“You brought your medication, didn’t you?” Dirk asked, concerned, worming both hands down into Todd’s pockets. “Just in case?”

“Are you seriously using that as an excuse to grope me right now?” said Todd, in disbelief that was all for show. “Yes, I brought it.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” Dirk said happily, withdrawing his hands. “Not anymore.”

Todd turned around and kissed Dirk until he felt lightheaded, his guitarists’s hands smoothing over Dirk’s thighs with careful intent. He lingered where Dirk hoped he would.

“You’re not in any pain, are you?” Todd asked, left palm circling over the scar beneath the grey twill covering Dirk’s right thigh. “From walking around all day just because you _can_?”

Helplessly turned-on, the best Dirk could do was swallow a whimper and catch Todd’s lower lip between his teeth. “No,” he mumbled. “Well, maybe a _little_. On that cartoon-face scale you see at the doctor, I’d put it at about a two. That’s seduction-possible territory.”

Todd grinned at him and pulled away. “Set-up first,” he said. “It’ll be your reward.”

“You can’t dangle it over my head like that when it was the whole point in the first place!” said Dirk, irritably, hopping down to follow him.

“Dirk, if you wanna get laid,” Todd replied, duffel bag already slung over his shoulder, “just shut up and help me with this.”

Getting the sleeping bags—four of them, the better to burrow in—unrolled in the truck-bed went quickly. Disregarding the duffel bag containing clothes and junk food, Todd caught Dirk around the waist and kissed him.

“This is tiring,” Todd said, surreptitiously unbuckling Dirk’s belt. “We should take a break.”

Dirk didn’t waste any time rucking up Todd’s band tee, eagerly nodding against Todd’s hair.

They were experts in undressing each other now, each speechless movement strangely coordinated. Shirt discarded, shoes and socks kicked aside, Dirk let Todd finish the job.

Todd kissed the scars on Dirk's shoulder and collarbone, laying him down, until Dirk shook with want.

“Todd,” Dirk said, running his fingers through Todd's disheveled hair. “Todd, please. Soon?”

“Can't say no to that,” Todd said, smiling into Dirk's belly, pressing a kiss there. “You ready?”

“I've been ready since we first talked about trying this a whole week ago!” Dirk snapped.

“I haven't done this very much,” Todd admitted, nuzzling the crease of Dirk's thigh, leaving another kiss there to calm him. “Like, one time in college and one time on tour, and I don't think those people were very impressed with—”

“I could not care _less_ what your drunken groupie flings thought,” Dirk replied tetchily.

“God, you're the best,” said Todd, fervently, taking Dirk's cock in his mouth without hesitation.

Distantly, Dirk wondered if this was even a fraction of what pararibulitis felt like: every nerve on fire with unfamiliar sensation, except for the part where it was _terrifyingly_ good. He groaned and shifted his hips, fingers still tangled in Todd's hair, marveling at how delicate the touch of Todd's tongue grew in response.

“Nobody's ever done this to me, but I've heard that it can be overwhelming,” Todd said apologetically. “Too much?”

“Nobody has _ever_ sucked you off?” Dirk blurted, stroking the back of Todd's neck. “That is an absolute crime.”

“Dirk, don’t avoid the question,” Todd said, nuzzling Dirk as a reminder. “Do you like this?”

“I like how you were licking me just now, and the—” Dirk swallowed “—thing with your hand.”

Todd tightened his grip on Dirk, lapping tentatively at Dirk’s slit. “You mean when I did this?”

“Yes,” said Dirk, faintly, letting his head drop onto the sleeping bag. “ _Yes_ , like that.”

“Fuck, you’re so sensitive,” Todd murmured, briefly sucking the entire head of Dirk’s cock.

Dirk arched his back and closed his eyes, desperate for restraint, which he did _not_ have.

“It’s okay,” Todd said between licks, stroking Dirk lightly and rapidly now. “I’ve got you.”

Dirk came with his eyes shut and Todd’s name a helpless, devoted repetition on his lips. He felt Todd release him, crawl up the length of his body, and settle against him with a groan.

“You feel wonderful,” Dirk whispered, holding Todd close, trembling. “Better than being right.”

That pulled another moan from Todd, as if he wasn’t overwhelmed enough by orgasm already. He clung to Dirk as the tension in them subsided, rubbing his stubbly cheek against Dirk’s.

“Do you really think a case is trying to start, but that it can’t until Farah returns?” Dirk asked sleepily, still thrilled at how much of a cuddle-slut Todd had turned out to be.

“Maybe,” Todd said, shrugging, his chin digging into Dirk’s shoulder. “It sure feels like it.”

“I love how everything with you is about _feels_ now,” said Dirk. “Also, you know, _you_.”

“Are you always gonna tell me that at every given opportunity?” Todd asked softly, tone fond.

“In every single way I can possibly think to do so,” Dirk promised, hugging him tightly. “Yes.”


	5. Resolutions

**Fairytale Ending**

Exactly like the start of every Western Tina had ever seen, Farah swaggered in like the bad-ass outlaw weirdo that she was. Instead of a gun at her hip, she wore an RFID passport belt.

"Well, howdy, stranger," Tina said, tipping her hat, pulse aflutter. "You're back early. Last text I had from you said you might stay there a couple more weeks. What changed?"

Farah smiled, tipping her newsboy cap in return, stepping up to Tina's desk. She unzipped the passport belt, reached inside, and promptly slapped down a crisp fifty-dollar bill.

"Tell Hobbs he won. I can't leave my boys alone while they're all love-struck and starry-eyed."

"Aw, _man_! Far out. That was really fast," Tina marveled, hands on hips. "I bet they're hella cute together, too, like—all clingy and shit?"

Farah grinned and nodded, her cheeks darkening. "You got that right," she sighed. "One video chat's all I have to go on, but they were their usual touchy-feely dialed up to eleven."

"I'd bet another fifty bucks that Todd's the insecure one," Tina said knowingly. "Can't believe he bagged such a hottie cinnamon roll because of that I'm-an-asshole trip he's on."

Farah laughed long and loud at that, nearly doubled over on Tina's desk by the end of her fit.

"Yep, definitely sounds like Todd," she agreed. "Hey, was he like that back in his rocker days?"

Tina came around the desk to stand in front of Farah, tapping her nose to indicate confidence.

"I must've seen a dozen of his shows, but I never got close. Word on the scene said he was kind of a dork offstage. Awkward, sorta quiet. Little more of a twink than a ladies' man, if you know what I mean. Supposedly equal-opportunity, though, and _totally_ cool about it."

"That also sounds like him," Farah said, folding her arms across her chest. "That time I kissed him, it was like...at first, I swear he didn't even know what to do. Lukewarm fish."

Tina took her hat off, set it aside, and tilted her chin up so she could look Farah square in the eye.

"The fact is, ma'am," she said, heart catching in her throat at the sight, "that I am anything but."

Wonder of wonders, Farah moved first, laying hands and lips on Tina like a woman starved.

"Howdy stranger yourself," she breathed when they parted, voice low and true as homecoming.

Just then, Hobbs strolled in, mid-bite on the Subway six-inch he had in his hand. He waved at Farah, beaming as he swallowed, unfazed.

"What's this I hear about winning a bet?" he asked cheerfully. "I reckon I've actually won two."

 

**Fragile Beginning**

Mona had not traveled in human skin for over a decade, and no force on earth could persuade her it held an innate advantage.

She needed to wear actual clothes, for one, and they _itched_. At least the hoodie, Mexican Funeral t-shirt, and cargo pants she'd borrowed from Todd more or less fit her. One of Dirk's belts had made up the difference.

Walking the streets barefoot tended to earn a lot of stares; she'd forgotten about that. Flip-flops were cheap enough at Walgreens.

Greyhound from Seattle to Helena had cost her a hundred and forty dollars of her hard-earned cash. It had taken sixteen hours and another sixty dollars by the time she took a taxi the rest of the way. The driver had asked her a lot of banal questions, like where she was from, what her profession was, and what she was doing out here in the wild.

Mona had just answered by telling him her name, and he'd fallen ominously silent after that. Regular people were so easy to unnerve.

The hospital just outside Bergsberg was not a trendy destination, but it beckoned to Mona without cease. She had to lie to the receptionist about why she was there. Fortunately, she was born to it.

An orderly gave her a visitor's badge and led her to the courtyard through late-afternoon sunshine.

Bart, perched on the edge of the card table so she could remain close to her companion, nodded.

"Didn't expect to see you again," she said, craning her neck as Mona rummaged in the pocket of her hoodie. "Why'd you come back here, anyway?"

"Wait," said Ken, pushing his chair back from the table—sluggish, maybe drugged. "I know you."

"I am not here to hurt you," Mona reassured him, handing her delivery to Bart. "I want to help."

Bart opened the envelope and rifled through its contents, eyes wide. "Eight hundred dollars? Why?"

"Because you have nothing," Mona said, smiling shyly from one to the other, "and soon you will leave."

"I have done _nothing_ to deserve your kindness," Ken said. "You should want me dead."

Absently, Mona shrugged. The emotions of flesh-form humans were slow to adapt and heal.

"You were a good person once," she said. "Bart loves you. It _is_ possible to change back."

"See, I told you she says all this, like, super wise and mysterious stuff," Bart interjected proudly.

Ken nodded, cracking an unexpected smile. "That thing you did as a gun, by the way? On point."

Mona nodded, opening her arms. "Yes. I was helping you then, and I am helping you now."

Tearful and unashamed, Bart hopped right off the edge of the table into Mona's waiting embrace.


End file.
